Disclaimer: Okay, seriously? At this point? Fine. Not mine =.=

Chapter Fourteen

I Won't Let Them Take You

Kill a man, and you are a murderer. Kill millions of men, and you are a conquerer. Kill everyone, and you are a god.

- Jean Rostand

I didn't talk to England for days after France's call. So what if he did it to protect me? France's pained scream haunted my every thought, and I couldn't help but get so mad at my ex-colonist. He tried to talk to me, but I refused to even look at him. I know it was unfair and childish, but since when is life fair? Or when have I not been childish? I'm only a tiny island, after all.

Tiny and insignificant.

Powerless.

"Seyche?" Italy snapped me from my thoughts, his eyebrows drawn down in worry. He was sitting between mine and Germany's bed. It had been an uneventful week since I woke up. There was no gunfire, no battles. Iceland had told me that nothing was going on outside, either. The French armies had retreated and hadn't fired a single shot. None of us could figure out why, but I felt uneasy. Something about France's animalistic scream on the radio, together with this lack of fighting and what England said about how France acted after he shot me, scared me. Not the normal scared, either. The kind of dread that permeates every cell of your body. The little voice in the back of your head that tells you something is very, very, wrong.

"Ciao, Seyche?" Italy waved a hand in my face, and I jumped a bit.

I really needed to stop dozing off like that, "W… wi, Feli?"

"Are you okay?" Italy said, being careful to keep his voice low. Germany was asleep, and it was just the two of us for the first time since our little excursion across Germany.

I shook my head quickly, "I'm fine, Feli. Just a little tired, that's all. Getting shot does that to a person." I forced a smile. I'd been spacey all week, and could see how Italy and the others worried. England probably thought I'd run off again.

He was right, of course, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Are you sure? I… I could get Inghilterra to issue more morphi-"

"Non!" He jumped and Germany stirred behind him. I clamped a hand over my mouth – I hadn't meant to yell – before looking down and muttering, "Désolé…"

We both fell silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Italy wanted to say something. I wanted to as well, but just couldn't find the words. There was so much I wanted to say to everyone. To France.

"Do you… miss him?" Italy said quietly.

My head snapped up. I didn't need to ask who 'him' was. I sighed and looked away. Did I miss France? Did I really? My chest hurt, and it wasn't from the hole in my shoulder, "I…" I bit my lip, concentrating on my fingers as they played with the bed sheets. I couldn't think of an answer, honestly, because I didn't know, "Which France?"

"Huh?"

I looked up at Italy, "I miss France. My France. The France who raised me on my little island. The France I…" Love. I wanted to say 'The France I love', but it just wouldn't come out. My hands balled into fists, gripping the sheets until my knuckles were white, "I want that France back. But this new one…" I looked away again. Italy's eyes were sad, almost pitying. I didn't want pity, "This French Empire… I don't miss him."

Italy stood, and I jumped a bit when he sat on the edge of my bed, "Seyche… I don't remember how I was during World War II. My vision's all hazy and stuff, but now… I'm me, sai? I got better." He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled that Italian smile. Carefree, like during our Gakuen days, "France will too. I know it."

"But…" I looked to the side at his hand and bit my lip, "You might not remember, and he might not, but I will. England, America, and France remembered World War II. Germany remembers what he did."

"But he'll be alive, giusto?" His smile faltered for half a second.

"Yeah…" I nodded, bringing my knees up to my chest. My shoulder throbbed a bit from the movement, but it was already well on its way to healing. Perk of being immortal, I guess.

I let the conversation drop, because I didn't want to tell Italy what I really thought. So much had changed with this war. I don't think I could ever look at France the same, even if he survived the war. No one knew how many were dead on both sides, but the total was well over two billion. The entire world was decimated, and even if France survived, he would never forget it.

And if he did survive, he would go back to being a nation, and eventually would return to his former power, just like Germany had. I didn't want to admit it, but a nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me of how unfair it all was. We were forced to do things based on what our people thought, and sometimes it sent us into Insanity. When the Insanity's over, if the infected survive, they rebuild and return. There's no execution of the nation or anything. No real 'justice' against the embodiment of the nation that started the fighting.

I sighed and laid back down, staring up at the ceiling, "It's not fair."

"Never is," I let my head loll to the side to see England leaning against the doorway. I hadn't heard him come in… then again, I wasn't really paying attention. I looked the other way as he pushed off the door and walked to my bedside. I was still a little angry at him, but couldn't help but feel bad for how much of a child I was acting, "Victoria…"

I bit my lip, refusing to look over at him, but saying, "Wi?"

England sighed heavily in relief, "Oh good, you're talking again." I twitched and looked over at him, annoyed at the exasperated tone in his voice. He was the one who lied to France, not me! "There's the stubborn Seychelles we all know and love." Then England smiled. Like Italy, it was real… but unlike Italy, it didn't meet his eyes. Once again, I felt bad, "Sey, I just came to tell you that you're being moved."

I blinked, a little startled, and blurted out, "What?"

"I talked with the others," I didn't miss how his eyes flicked to Italy, who was finding the bed sheets very interesting at the moment, "And we're moving you Trondheim, Norway."

That caught me off guard, "What about Umee?" Had something happened? Why would they move me somewhere else if it hadn't? Was Eritrea okay? She might fall to Insanity, even though she's so young…

He stared at me for a moment before looking away, "Before you yell at me again, Eritrea and the others are fine. The eastern border got worse while you were gone, and the French Empire occupied the ruins of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. I had reason to believe France knew about the nations hiding in Umee, so I asked Norway if we could secretly move them to Trondheim. That's all."

I loosed a breath I hadn't known I was holding. Eritrea was safe. I was glad; if something happened to her, I'd never be able to forgive myself. England was going to send me there too, for my 'safety'. I grimaced, "I don't need protection, Arthur." I looked up at him, eyes hard and defiant, "I want to fight too."

"No, you want to run," I tried to look surprised, but England saw through it like usual. He sighed and his shoulders sagged in exasperation. England looked like an old man, stressed and drawn, "Victoria, please." I felt bad. England sounded so worried and stressed, and I knew some of it was because of me, "Just don't."

"But I can help him, Arthur," I said. He closed his eyes, and clenched his fists.

"You can't."

"Yes, I ca-"

"Victoria!" Italy and I jumped when he yelled.

England fell silent and Italy got up, looking worriedly between the two of us, "Um…" He looked behind England to Germany, and I saw the injured nation groan, "You… you woke up Ludwig, England."

"Huh?" England was broken from his frustration, turning to look at the awoken Germany. He sighed, "Bloody 'ell, I didn't mean to yell." When he looked back at me, I shifted around a bit, nervous. I felt bad again, but I knew I could help France break from the Insanity. Even if we couldn't go back to the way things were, I could make him see reason. I had to… "How are you feeling, Seychelles?"

"… better," I mumbled, staring down at my hands, "My shoulder hurts a bit, but if I don't move it, I'm fine."

He nodded, "Let's go for a walk."

"Huh?" My head whipped up, surprised.

"You've been cooped up here for a week," England gently took off the blankets and helped me out. The doctors had removed the IV earlier, but England had order me bed rest, so I hadn't gotten up yet. My legs were a bit shaky, so he wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me, "Come on."

There was no arguing with the Englishman, and he led me from the room as Italy tended to Germany. The hallways were filled with recovering soldiers, but for the most part the base was quiet. I wasn't used to it, and my mind soon wandered to the only thing it seemed to lately;

France.

What was he doing right now? Where was he? What happened after England took me away? How could I stop him? Was there a way? 'No, there has to be,' I thought. I wouldn't let myself believe anything else.

England brought me to the small room acting as his office. He helped me into a torn up couch, but I brushed him off as soon as I could. I hated being treated like a child, like a colony.

He sat next to me, bend forward with his elbows on his knees. England didn't look at me, but stared straight ahead, "Seychelles, Ukraine and Turkey are dead."

"Dead?" I was confused, but felt cold spread through me, "How?" It was so hard to kill a nation to begin with. Germany was found after his country was destroyed, critically injured but still alive. I had never seen one of us die before. Even ones who lost their land, like Prussia and Rome, were still alive, "What do you mean?"

"I mean France killed them," England deadpanned.

The cold turned to ice, "Wh-what?"

"When Ukraine tried to escape his custody, he killed her and sent the body to Russia," He said in monotone, "And France killed Turkey during battle. Both with a gunshot right here." England pointed between his eyes.

"Mon dieu…" My hands flew to my mouth. I couldn't believe it. France, a nation-killer? I didn't know Ukraine or Turkey well, but I did remember them from World Academy W. Ukraine had seemed so nice… how could France do such a thing? "Wh… why?"

"Because he's not France anymore," England said, still looking straight ahead and still speaking in that terrible monotone, "None of us are us when we're Insane, Seychelles. Ukraine and Turkey are not the only ones either. Brazil, India, Pakistan, and the Netherlands are dead. We got word just after you and Italy left that Latvia was killed and Estonia captured. It's only a manner of time before he's killed or driven Insane."

"Non…" I didn't want to believe it. Nations, dead? Truly, completely dead?

"It hasn't happened before," I wanted to cry. If the nations were dead, what about their people? Were they gone too? What happens to the people when a nation is killed like that? "Seychelles, you need to understand. I was driven to Insanity during the American Revolution, but even then I couldn't shoot America. I thought it would be like that with France; I've known him for over a millennia. 'I couldn't kill America, so he won't kill me' I thought…" England chuckled mirthlessly, "But if it wasn't for you jumping in front of me like a bloody moron, I might be dead right now." He tilted his head in my direction, "He acts like France, talks like France, and you may think France is still in there somewhere… but he's not. Things will only get worse, Seychelles, and Germany was right. France was going to kill me, and he will kill you if he gets a hold of you. Maybe not right away, maybe not until he wins – not like he will – but unless he's stopped, France will kill us all."

"It's not true…" I covered my face with my good hand, trying to stop from crying. The tears came anyway, though, and my shoulders shook from the sobs. England wrapped his arms around me, and the dam broke. I threw myself at him, ignoring my shoulder when it exploded in pain, and cried, "It's not true!"

"I'm sorry, Victoria…" England said, laying his chin on top of my head and rubbed circles on my back. I know he was trying to sooth me, but how could he? I loved France. I loved a nation-killer. When did the first one die? Last month? A year ago? Before the bombs dropped? The way England spoke… France must have killed them all himself. How did Ukraine feel, when she was caught and killed? What about Russia, when his sister's body was delivered?

England was right; he wasn't France. I knew that, but wanted to believe so badly that my France was in there somewhere. But how could there be, if he'd killed nations already? I knew he wanted to kill England, and probably would have, but to know the France had done it before… that was almost too much. Ukraine, Turkey, Estonia, and the others… they were the ones the Alliance knew about. What about all the ones yet to be rescued after the bombs? England thought Germany was dead until Italy and I found him. All the countries that were 'missing'… how many of them had been killed by the French Empire?

"Why…?" My voice was muffled as I sobbed into England's chest. He held me tighter, but that only made me cry harder, "I want him b-back, Arthur. I want Francis back!"

"Shh… I know, Victoria…" England said, "I know."

I just kept crying. I cried for France, I cried for Ukraine and the others, I cried for myself… at the injustice of everything. Why did this have to happen? I wanted my carefree, perverted France back. I wanted it so badly it hurt more than the gunshot, but it would never happen. He had actually killed the embodiments of nations. Every part of me didn't want to believe it, but why would England lie about something like that?

I don't know how long I cried in England's arms. It seemed like hours, and it didn't stop even after all my tears were spent. I let everything out, and England just held me without saying a word.

An explosion shook the room, and I gripped England in shock.

"What the-?" He tore away from me, racing to the window and jerking open the blinds, "Shit."

"Wh-wh…?" I got up and tried to make my way to the window, but he stopped me, "A-Arthur?"

"Come on," He grabbed my hand and threw the door open.

Soldiers ran about, and another explosion shook the base. I stumbled and my injured shoulder hit the wall. I howled in pain, but England pulled me down the hallway.

"England!" Iceland was there when we turned a corner.

"Take her," England handed me off to him, "What the hell's going on?"

"I don't know," Iceland was bewildered. He took me by my good arm, and his face turned worried saw my shoulder. I looked over and saw a bit of red on the bandages; I must have torn the stitches when I hit the wall, "Seychelles, you shoulder-"

"Iceland!"

His face snapped up to England, "They came out of nowhere. The troops are mobilizing-"

"Air or ground forces?"

"Air," The two started down the hall again. Soldiers made way, and Iceland pulled me along much gentler than England had, "A direct attack for the main base."

"What is France thinking?" England seethed, "A direct attack… it's suicide. Our anti-air artillery-"

"They took one or two down before the planes reached us," Iceland said, "But I got a report from the front; they've started a full on assault there."

"Dammit, France…" England threw open the door to the conference room. A few other nations were in there, but I couldn't see Italy anywhere.

"This isn't a well thought out attack," Norway said from the back of the room.

"Who's manning the front right now?" England demanded.

"Denmark, Scotland, and Switzerland," He said, "I was going to head there now."

"This isn't right," Austria paced at the head of the room, "It's a wild attack, like a beasts. It's not how France fights. He's methodical, tests our defenses to find a weakness. He's smarter than this."

"He's lost it," Ireland murmured, "Gone completely off the deep end."

Gone off the deep end. Insane. Nation-killer. I shuddered, unconsciously gripping Iceland's hand tighter. He tilted his head back to me a bit. England saw that, and my terrified, tear-stained face.

"We have to get Seychelles and Germany out," My head shot up. Get us out? Now? In the middle of an airstrike?"

"We can't," Norway shook his head, mirroring my thoughts, "Until the skies clear, we can't get a plane out safely."

"Ship then; get them to Malmo, then Trondheim," England argued.

"Who's going to man it?" Norway said, his voice level, "We can't spare the men, England."

England growled. Ireland looked passed him and locked eyes with me, "He's after her 'body'. Give her up."

"No!" Both England and Iceland shouted. I was startled, and tensed. Norway raised an eyebrow at Iceland, who looked away.

"Iceland, prepare a cargo plane to transport Seychelles and Germany along with the critically injured," England said, adding before anyone could protest, "As soon as the skies are cleared, get her out of here."

"I'm not leaving," Iceland shook his head.

"Do it, Iceland," Norway said. The other nation's head snapped over to him in shock, "We need someone to go and get as many of the refugee nations to join us here or on the Russian front as possible."

"But Norway-" He protested.

Norway sighed, "Just go."

"Tch," Iceland hesitated for a moment.

That gave me an opening. My eyes locked on England, "I'm not going anywhere, Arthur!" If I couldn't help France, and if he really had killed those nations like England said, then the least I could do was help stop him. I don't know how I could help, but there had to be something. I wasn't a useless colony anymore; I could fight too.

"No," Of course that was England's answer.

"But-!"

He whipped around, angry. I shrank back, and England said, "I promised France I would keep you safe, goddammit, and that's what I plan to do! You're a nation, yes, but you're only a little girl, Seychelles! Your island is occupied and we haven't liberated it or any of your people, so you have no men to command. The only way you would be of any use here would be if I stuck you on the front to fight, which I would rather take a thousand of France's bullets than do." England growled, and I stepped back in alarm, "I am getting you out of here, end of discussion, do you understand, Victoria?"

No one said a thing, and I tore my gaze away from him, staring at the floor like a child. He sounded so mad, but I could hear all the stress and worry in his voice. Stress and worry I had helped cause, "Wi, Arthur…"

"Good," England turned away, "Iceland, please…"

Iceland nodded, and pulled me from the room by the good hand. He led me quickly through the base to a colossal hanger, shouting orders to the nearest pilot. A large cargo plane was starting to be prepared, and I was left in the care of a couple soldiers while Iceland went to get Germany. I could hear the sounds of fighter planes and gunfire outside, and every now and then the bunker shook from the force of a bomb. I wrapped my good arm around myself, trying to still the erratic thumping of my heart. Ireland's and England's words wouldn't leave me. France had killed nations. France was coming for my body. Nations were dead. Gone for good.

My hand slowly moved up to my bandages as Iceland hurried in, an exasperated Italy at his heels. Behind them, Germany was wheeled in on a medical bed, IV strapped to the corner of it. He was wheeled onboard, and Iceland pulled me inside with him. Other injured soldiers were brought in with us, and Italy pushed his way into the plane too.

"Get out, Italy," Iceland warned.

"I'm coming to!" The Italian protested, "I'm not leaving Ludwig!"

"Italien…" Germany said weakly from his bed, "I'll… be fine."

Italy shook his head in defiance, "No! I'm coming to. I don't care what England says; I'm not leaving you alone again, Germany!"

"We have clearance!" Someone called outside.

Iceland stared at Italy for a full minute, but the other nation didn't back down. I sighed; Italy may be a coward, but he was even more persistent. Especially when it came to Germany.

"Fine, but you're explaining it to England," Iceland grumbled, turning away from him to help strap me into a hard metal seat on the side of the plane. A bright smile broke out across Italy's face, and he hurried to the seat closest to where Germany's stretcher was strapped in.

Once everything was ready and the plane closed, the go-ahead was given. I couldn't see outside, but as the plane started to move, I couldn't hear gunfire anymore. The planes must've been taken down, but England had said that there was massive fighting at the front. How long before it reached here?

Concern for England, Switzerland, and the others flooded me. France wouldn't hesitate to kill them if he got a chance now, would he? If something happened to England, I would never forgive myself. I hated feeling so small, so helpless. England was right; I was only a little island nation. Who knows if my people were even alive anymore? I couldn't do anything to help… I couldn't even stop France.

As the plane lifted off and carried me away, something in me changed. I was only one girl, one tiny, insignificant nation. Even if there was nothing for me to do on the front, I would find something else. I would find some way to stop France, no matter what.

I had to.

Author's Note: I'm going to start editing the chapters, but I most likely won't release the edited ones until the story is finished. Well, maybe, maybe not; haven't decided xD. I usually release chapters about five minutes after writing them, so all of these are raw and unedited. Someone had recommended Nightingale on TVTropes Fanfic Recs: Axis Powers Hetalia, and I feel so honored for it. Chibiaries, whoever you are, you're awesome and thanks so much. However, someone else commented on the recommendation saying they didn't like my story and gave reasons, so I've decided to go through Nightingale with their review in mind. Once Nightingale is finished, I'll be looking for a beta or two (or three xP) to help me do an overall edit of Nightingale so this story gets better. I plan to submit to KumoriCon's fanfic contest, after all (2012, hopefully n.n)

Translation:

Italian:

Ciao? – Hello?

Inghilterra – England

sai? – you know?

giusto? – right?

Seychellois Creole:

Wi – yes

Non – no

French:

Désolé – Sorry

Mon dieu – My god

Germany:

Italien - Italy